


pink's a favorite color of mine

by orphan_account



Category: Who Killed Markiplier, wilford mother loving warfstache
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Hurts So Good, M/M, Reality Bending, detective is gay, i got will/abe vibes from the new skit and here this happened, so much gay, wilford is gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 14:31:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15608352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Wilford and Abe are a cat and mouse trapped in a dying, ruined time paradox reality and i have no idea what's going on.





	pink's a favorite color of mine

So Wilford is being pushed and swept through time, not caring, letting it pass by, and Abe is dragged along behind like a dog on a leash. Partly out of his own revenge and in part to the endless game that the universe is making them play, for some reason.  
The game: cat and mouse.  
But Abe isn’t aware of this. He lost track of years and dates a long time ago, obsession does that to a man. The Coronal has always been a eccentric with equally eccentric friends, so it doesn’t matter the theme of the dancing hall, the ballroom, the club where he pursues him. World War one, two, victorian era, some strange made up place like Nam or the 80’s, 90’s. It doesn’t matter, because he thinks it’s just one bar, one theme. Hotels, sometimes, even cities have themes as well, if they’re eccentric enough. And they somehow always are.  
Wilford, for his part, knows that the Detective is chasing him, and he also knows that he must be doing something right, because he hasn’t been caught yet. That’s part of the reason he lets himself by swept up in time, in place, because it’s him running and the detective not catching him, and that’s fine.  
He has to change his name, persona every few months to match the date, he has to blend in, act like the people here act. But it’s a small, small price to pay, and it goes on for so long that he forgets why he’s running, forgets about Abe.  
Soon, he’ll forget everything.  
\--  
Wilford has gum in his hair.  
“Why the hell did you do that?” Abe asks, “How the hell?”  
His mustache twitches with a smile, eyes glitter, “I really love that gum, blew too big a bubble.”  
“Jesus.” Abe sighs, rubs his hand hard over his face, “Go take a bath or something.”   
Wilford stares, like his eyes are drills for a second, at the bathroom. “The shower won’t work.” He protests.  
Abe has enough on his plate, the whole damn universe is fracturing like a mirror and he’s trying to figure out why, he can’t deal with this. He has to deal with the fancy demon guy in the plush suit and tie sitting in the living room like he owns it.  
“It does, it works.” He trips in the twilit room and walks to the bathroom, slams the light switch. Wilford follows, “I swear on my life it won’t.”  
Abe reaches for the faucet, jumps when he hears the door slam behind him. He turns around. Wilford is standing behind him, leaning on the door.   
Fuck.  
“Language.” Wilford abolishes, smirking. “I lied.”  
Abe’s hand squabbles with the faucet, finds that it does turn, “Why’d you do that?”  
Two steps, the bathroom is small, and Wilford is kissing his jaw, hands around his middle.  
I wanted to be alone with you. He hears, in his mind.  
Abe is thinking of shrugging him off and walking out, then feels a hand grope him, hard. He moans.  
Maybe he should stop thinking.   
But he should pull away, this is a bad idea. “Take a shower at least.” He groans, “I’m not fucking you with gum in your hair.”

Wilford hums and Abe kneels on the bathroom floor and scrubs his hair, pours soap over it. He digs his fingers into his scalp.  
“Gimme.” Wilford reaches for the soap and aims it at the water. Bubbles erupt. “Ouch, fuck. Watch what your pulling detective.”  
Abe looks down at his hand, sees black hairs flutter to the ground, “I’m distracted.”  
“Bout what dick?”  
“Time. How everything’s fucking breaking, reality’s fucking dying.” Just thinking about it makes his head hurt. “You know anything about it?”  
Wilford stops his humming of yellow submarine and grabs a fistful of multicolored bubbles. Abe takes his hands away from his hair.   
“Time’s not linear.” Wilford says, and Abe is once again struck by how much he underestimates him,” It’s not like a circle either. It’s already like creaks but it’s just creaking more. Millions and millions of little creaks that might not even exist, or already exist, or really should exist but don’t.”  
(He tips his head back and looks at Abe upside down, “Clean enough for you?”)  
(He ducks his head under the water and Abe sits back on his heels and thinks.)  
(He turns around and their teeth collide.)  
(He has a gun under the water.)  
(He refused to take a bath and just fucks him right there, in the bathroom, against the wall.)


End file.
